Yesterday I described a conversation I’d had with Zoë during a long ‘ticcing fit’, about the reproductive capabilities of lamp-posts.
That wasn’t the only important issue we covered. Another was the meaning of “Loaf doaf”, a tic I seem to say only during fits when Zoë’s with me.
Then there was my assertion that “I’m like a Snickers because I changed my name in the 80s”. When Zoë challenged my tics on this and asked what I’d been called before then, the involuntary response was “Flipper”. Zoë was polite enough not to point out that Snickers didn’t exist before1990 when they became the new name for Marathon Bars.
But it’s a different conversation I had with her I’ll share today. Here’s how it went:
Zoë: Are you comfortable?
TH: Define comfortable. It’s impossible for me to answer your question ‘til I have a working definition of comfort.
Zoë: Comfortable so you’re not putting too much pressure on your spine, arm or…..
Zoë’s response to my tricksy question was cut short by my arm breaking free from its position safely tucked under my bum, swinging round, and hitting her on the head.
Zoë: Well I can see that there’s no pressure on your arm.
I giggled sheepishly, apologised. Fortunately Zoë was unhurt and un-phased by her uncomfortable encounter with my fist.